its cold where she sits
bare back against polished porcelain
goosebumps pucker across her skin
hair as light as sand standing to attention
its quiet where she sits
her soft breaths are haunting echoes
eerie drops of a dying faucet
steady, calm, drip drip drip
cold and quiet, her fingers tremble
edge as sharp as steel against skin as smooth as silk
crimson warmth amongst anguished cries
vibrant hues against stark white
red rivulets spiraling down
the cries fade into sobs fade into shallow gasps
until all that is left is cold and quiet
1/1/19
